


Pants Are Overrated

by daroos



Series: Pants Off [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Asgardian drinks are dangerous, F/F, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, M/M, Pants off party time, Porn, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, sex between friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-11 16:58:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroos/pseuds/daroos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between roommates, pants aren't really necessary.  That courtesy usually extends to girlfriends and people who've saved your life in battle... multiple times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey, Cap?" Hawkeye caught Steve's attention as they're heading to the locker rooms, stripping gear off and handing it to engineers and specialists to repair and clean.

"Yes?" Steve asked, stopping and turning his full attention to his team member.

"Nat and I wanted to see if you'd like to come for dinner. Darcy will be by and it'll make a full table." Clint stripped off his tac vest and handed it to someone as he said this, unselfconscious as he approached nudity.

"Oh." Steve replied. He hadn't been invited to dinner, aside from team dinners in the Penthouse, since he had moved to the Stark Tower. In truth, since he had been shipped out to Europe in 1943. Though he could and did cook, the idea of sharing a home-prepared meal with some of his team was welcome. "That would be... nice." He replied. "Can I bring anything?"

Clint shook his head. "Nat likes to put everything together herself. Darcy and I will get you around 7 - sound good?"

He had paperwork, and a workout which he missed that morning which he wanted to catch up on, but seven worked well for his plans. He asked Jarvis about invited-to-dinner etiquette in the 21st century, and jogged the three long blocks to the nearest flower stand for a small bouquet and arrived home in time to shower before Clint's enthusiastic knocks drew him out. Clint wasn't dressed up in the least, so he felt better about his casual clothing.

Clint and Natasha had lived together for as long as either of them had lived in the Tower. They're off on assignments quite often, and they had worked together long enough that sharing space was second nature. The added benefit of someone else to watch over the other's sleep made it rather natural. Steve had seen this sort of thing before with some WWI veterans - men who preferred living in boarding houses with former comrades to living alone. Exposure to violence and chaos made some people draw closer to those they found comforting, and Natasha and Clint appeared to be that type, setting themselves back-to-back in the two bedroom apartment Stark had assigned them.

Darcy was a new addition. She had worked with Thor's girl on particle physics, and now was working in an administrative capacity in the Tower, helping Fury wrangle the Avengers with a surprising efficiency.

Clint and Darcy were arm in arm and looked up to no good when Steve answered the insistent ringing and knocking. Darcy easily looped her arm through his as well, and they walked three abreast to the other apartment.

When they arrived, Steve realized he had never actually been inside the apartment. He had not in fact been in any apartment other than his. Clint knocked a rapid rhythm and entered, kicking off his boots in a corner. Darcy did the same with her heels, and Steve bent to unlace his shoes as that appeared to be the courtesy. When he looked up, Clint's shirt was off and Darcy was unbuttoning her jeans, and Steve simply stared.

Clint must have felt his mouth hanging open, because he turned, having gotten down to his undershirt, and smiled at Steve. "No pressure to undress - it's just a pants off world in here in general." Darcy was down to her underwear - a bra and unremarkable panties, aside from the fact that HE WAS STARING AT HER PANTIES - and Clint dropped his trousers into a convenient hamper by the door and was similarly in an undershirt and boxer briefs.

Darcy bounced over to give him a kiss on the cheek and whispered, "Don't freak out - we just hate pants. If you want to leave them on that's cool too."

Steve looked from one to the other of his hosts, clutching his small bouquet protectively before making a decision. "No - when in Rome." He handed Darcy the flowers which she took with a bright look, and unbuttoned his shirt to hang on the hat tree by the door. He hesitated for a moment with his slacks, hand on the buttons and zipper. Clint had wandered into the kitchen and Darcy had gone to fine a vase and it suddenly seemed like such a non issue that he disposed of his pants in the same manner as his shirt, leaving him in an undershirt and white briefs.

With little else to do Steve wandered into the kitchen after Clint. Natasha was lording over a full stove of pots and pans with the precision of a dominatrix in a bra, panties, and an apron with "kitchen ninja" embroidered on its front.

"Beer?" Clint offered, one hip hitched against the counter. Steve shook his head, more that a little overwhelmed by the army of underwear-clad co-workers which apparently lurked behind any reasonably private closed door.

They ate, and Clint introduced Steve to many bygone internet phenomena that Steve didn't think were that funny, and they played apples to apples and even explained all the references to Steve, which made him feel included even though they never chose his cards.  
\--  
Steve put on his pants at the end of the night and headed back to his quarters. After that night, he got in the habit of disrobing upon stepping in for the evening, going about his evening routine of a quiet book, listening to the baseball game on the radio, or sketching out striking images from his day in his briefs, or nothing at all.

The dinners once a week became a thing, and he even invited Clint and Natasha and Darcy over to his place for meatloaf and potatoes and... he was really unfamiliar with cooking when you had money, so the meatloaf was 30% ground liver, and the potatoes were half turnips, but everyone seemed to love it and he just happened to not mention what was in any of it. The same odd disrobing custom happened when they visited his apartment, and they all lounged around in underwear or less while arguing about Star Wars. Well, mostly about Ewoks.

"So I hear you and the assassins have super-secret pants off parties." Stark said to him after a briefing with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Uh..."

"Oh, yes." Natasha purred, suddenly next to Stark. "I love a bunch of pantsless men wandering around my quarters while cooking greasy foods." She said it in a way that dripped seduction, because, much like a teflon pan, those were words which simply could not absorb seduction. Steve had personally seen the result of Clint's post-drinking bacon sessions and the spatter burns were terrifying.

Stark eyeballed her and received a much more professional eyeballing in return.

"Darcy is usually there, too." Clint offered, ambitiously chewing half a pack of gum at once. "She likes helping with the vareniki."

Steve, wisely, remained quiet.

Bruce made an appearance at dinner one week, bringing his own folding chair and they spent an evening swapping stories about foreign countries. Thor attended anther night with his own barrel of mead which got everyone, including Steve, more than a bit tipsy. Asgardian mead is more than potent, even to super soldiers. By the end of the night Natasha, Clint and Darcy are a melted pile of human, and Steve and Thor are swaying slightly, Thor still spouting improbable tales of his combat, exploratory, and sexual exploits.

"It was a truly rousing experience! Mjolnir has not been put to such vigorous and creative use previously or since!" Thor ended a story, waving his fist where Mjolnir would normally be found. Steve had not been able to tell during the entire story whether it was of combative or sexual exploits, and he determined it may have been something of both.

"You are one kinky alien." Clint said from the pile.

"I want to lick your abs." Darcy added.

Thor beamed. His abs seemed to brighten at the comment as well becoming just a bit more... "Were they not under the auspices of the fair Lady Jane, I would grant your desire without delay. You may ask her the boon if it please you." Thor had his cell phone out and was offering it to Darcy.

Natasha swiped it first, and began punching out a text message to Jane that was quickly returned. "She says, 'only if we get photos'." Thor looked considering for a moment and nodded his consent.

Natasha wrapped Clint's hand around the phone - he was largely held up by virtue of being propped between the coffee table and the wall - and helped drag Darcy upright. They lurched over to Thor and Steve's side of the room. Darcy collapsed, legs in Thor's lap, arm over his shoulder. Natasha collapsed considerably more elegantly, mostly on Steve.

"Ready, Clint?" Darcy asked. Clint doesn't seem disturbed that Darcy wants to lick another man or that she is going to get photos taken which are probably going to be posted on the internet somewhere within the next ten minutes. He gave her a single thumb's up, and tried to give her a double thumbs up but dropped the phone, cursing. He fumbled it up again and gave her a thumbs up once more. "Ready Thor?"

"Verily." Thor replied, stretching out just a bit longer to give her better access. Steve was entranced. Darcy lay the flat of her tongue on one side of Thor's bellybutton and licked a long stripe up, kissing her way across a pectoral and biting his collarbone (which causes an inhale of breath and a rumbling chuckle on Thor's part). She nibbled her way across the collarbone, into the hollow of his neck, and back down to the abs, running her hands appreciatively across his back in the process and making some really filthy noises. Clint was taking pictures every two seconds or so with only one eye open.

"My turn!" Natasha said when Darcy has snugged into Thor's side, tucked under a massive armpit, licking spree apparently over. Steve thought he hears her say, "I've always wanted to do this" before getting to work, licking those abs like it was her job, and she loved her job. Natasha was still mostly in Steve's lap, and the wriggling associated with Asgard-licking was making it rather uncomfortably obvious that he had a deadly serious erection.

Thor had turned a bit pink. "Aaaaaand, that's a wrap." Clint said, hitting 'send' on the phone and handing it back to the flushed Thor. Natasha was giving Steve a considering look, having noticed the prodding she was getting from his strained briefs. Everyone jumped when the phone rang in Thor's hand and he answered, sounding a bit strained.

"My pardons Lady Darcy, Mistress Widow - Jane and I must speak in private." He rose, settling Darcy against Steve as he did so, and ducked into Clint's room.

"Why are you all over there?" Clint asked, sounding a bit miserable. "And did he just go into my room to have phone sex with his girlfriend?"

"You are waay too... talking good." Darcy finished, having lost the word 'cogent' several glasses of mead before.

Clint half-crawled, half rolled to their side of the room, dropping his head on Darcy's legs and draping his feet over Natasha and Steve. Natasha was grinding on him. That was really the only way to describe it, ass moving rhythmically over his groin.

"Natasha." Steve said, uncomfortably, and she gave him a look. Natasha, he imagines, has stopped men's hearts with that look. He'd personally seen her trip someone down the stairs of the helicarrier JUST WITH THAT LOOK. She had gotten Clint out of a really blatant moving violation with that look. She had once convinced a seasoned merchant marine captain to loan her his tanker filled with cargo for 72 hours, with that look. It was all of her intensity and focus, all the steel in her body and soul, and all the melting, terrified affection drilling into him, and Steve found that he, too, would give her anything she asked of him. She reached up, fingers delicate on his jaw, and kissed him with a leisurely thoroughness.

She pulled back and smiled broadly at his flush when he ducked to continue. Natasha was fully in his lap now, straddling his hips, perched on him. Like a steel songbird, she was delicate and small, and part of him was briefly concerned about breaking her, until he recalled the punishment he had seen her frame take without serious injury.

When they broke apart the second time he noticed Darcy staring avidly at him, propping Clint's head up so he could watch as well. "Uh..." Steve tried to say something, but Natasha effectively shut him up by grinding panties to briefs in a meaningful way.

Hands were on him - he was relatively certain they weren't Natasha's because hers were tugging in his hair - and there was a tongue. He jumped just a bit, and he realized it was Darcy, licking his lats. "Do you lick everything you see?" He asked her, a bit indignant and breathless.

"Only the things I like. You don't mind, do you?"

"Uh... Clint..." Steve replied, having lost track of the sniper between getting ravished and licked by a tag-team of women.

"Oh my god I don't care." Clint was under Darcy, unhooking her bra and fondling her breasts with rapt attention. "Actually I do care - go back to what you were doing." Apparently arousal cleared the liquor right out of Clint's system. Darcy took that as an invitation and began licking Steve wherever she wanted - stomach, chest, biting his nipples lightly and digging her teeth more meaningfully into the muscle rising over his hip bone, very close to Natasha and Steve's groins.

Steve had a brief out-of-body experience where he wondered when dinner and drinks with his team members had degenerated into an orgy on the carpet, and why everyone seemed so very enthusiastic and so very unconcerned about it, and what he was going to do tomorrow when the fallout began to settle around them all in the form of uncomfortable looks and silence, and the resurgence of wearing trousers in even the most private of contexts. Steve wondered if they had any condoms, because he had gotten That Talk enough during basic for it to have sunken in.

It was around that time that Steve realized there was a wet patch on his briefs, and he was unsure if it was due to Natasha's moist panties, or his own dripping erection, but either way, it was time for no clothes. Reaching behind Natasha he un-clipped her bra and she helpfully shimmied out of the arm straps. Lifting his hips she managed to hook his waistband with her toes and drag his underwear off, not getting anything caught. He returned the favor. Darcy, having not given up on her quest to lick every inch of his skin, helped.

Natasha drew one of his hands up, tracing the fingers before guiding it down towards her labia, tracing herself with his hand encouragingly before letting him go. Taking the hint, he ran two fingers around her outermost lips, meeting at her clitoris for a brief moment before tracking back down and moving just a bit further inside of her. Darcy distracted him at that moment by sucking about half of his cock down in her mouth and running her tongue over him. "Oh geez." He curled his fingers involuntarily just inside of Natasha, and she ground down hopefully on them. Clint was on his back on the carpet, head thrown back to watch everything upside down. He had gotten Darcy's panties off at some point and was gently stroking her inside, with one hand while the other worked his cock almost lazily. He smiled at Steve as though to say, "I know exactly what you're going through right now and isn't it the most awesome thing ever.".

A series of subtle communications passed between the two men, Steve gesturing minutely with his head, Clint's eyebrows rising enquiringly, Steve waggling his wrist impatiently, and Clint scoot-rolled to within range of Steve's large palms. The whole oral sex thing was new and strange to him, and even if he'd had the daring and the inclination his lap was literally filled with women, but hand jobs were something he was a pro at. The Howling Commandos, it could probably be said, were the best bunch of hand jobs in Western Europe, and he was their Captain. Clint groaned in appreciation.

Natasha was unselfconsciously riding his fingers, her inner muscles clenching over them and grinding into the jut of his thumb with her clitoris. Darcy had found a condom somewhere and rolled it on him, checking the fit at the base and then fondling his testicles with a pleased sound. She grasped the base of his cock and angled it properly, sliding onto him with a sigh, inch by tight inch. He nearly came then, but Darcy startled him by blowing in his face, apparently recognizing the signs and forestalling orgasm. She was flushed a dark red under her tan, all the way to the tops of her breasts, and she rode him slowly in long strokes. Natasha had a hand on Darcy's nipple, and a hand on his stomach, and was making filthy noises and cursing in Russian. Clint was thrusting lazily into his hand. He didn't have the brain power to do much of anything with his cock and thus he was lucky that Darcy was orchestrating movements in that respect.

Natasha cursed even louder and moaned, clenching down on his fingers like iron and shuddering. His hand was sticky but he left it where it was until Natasha rose slightly and flopped to more easily kiss Clint. Steve was hot, and every nerve seemed to be tingling or on fire, and he knew he was going to come any second. Looking at Darcy she met his eyes and nodded, coming herself a few seconds later. He was not far behind, head slumping back against the couch leg. Turning his head slightly he saw Clint's powerful back working to hold himself over Natasha's willing body, thrusting efficently between her splayed legs. She let out a few undignified squeaks, and Clint was coming with a growling groan. He removed his condom, knotted it and threw it towards the wastebasket, rolling off of Natasha.

"Bravo friends! Truly this display of teamwork has gladdened my heart!" Steve jumped. Clint did the sniper freeze where it was possible that every muscle, including his heart, stopped. Natasha moaned unhappily and Darcy squeaked, jumping with Steve. Thor was reclined on the chaise with another glass of mead, clout cloth and smile in place.

"If you tell Stark about this I will tell Sif about that... thing that happened." Natasha said without looking up. Thor noticeably paled.

"As the Widow desires." He granted, taking a large quaff of his drink to hide his unease.

Darcy gave Clint an imploring look. "Can we keep him? I want to keep him. I licked Steve so he's mine."

Clint waved a hand. "I don't do slavery. If you can convince him to stay, he's yours." he replied, generously. "Actually, scratch that. If he can carry me to my bed you can keep him." Clint looked hopefully at Steve.  
\--  
Clint had a King sized bed. Steve, for once, wasn't hanging his feet off the end of the bed, and that was really nice. Natasha and Darcy were curled up around Steve, and Clint was taking up half the bed, splayed thoughtlessly on his back where Steve had dropped him. He couldn't remember sleeping better in months.

Steve woke with a thigh thrown over him, and it was Clint's. The women were up already, Darcy off to the labs to check on Bruce and Tony, and Natasha doing whatever she did in her daily attempts to become more deadly. Clint also had him trapped by an arm over his chest. He snuffled gently into Steve's pectoral. Panic preceded acceptance as Steve tried to come to terms with what had happened the previous evening. He stroked his fingers down Clint's spine absently, mulling over events. Sleepy grey-blue eyes were blinking up at him, and one side of Steve's mouth hinted upwards in a gentle smile.

"Hey."

"You're in my bed." Clint said, tightening his grip across Steve's chest.

"Yeah." Steve responded. Smooth.

"Could you bring me coffee and aspirin? Or a gun?" Clint asked, and Steve realized how red-rimmed those eyes were, and the faint signs of dehydration in the sag of Clint's skin. He was probably monstrously hungover from Thor's mead.

"Uh, sure. It'll be a sec." Steve lifted Clint's head from his shoulder and put it back down on a pillow gently before disentangling the rest of them and moving to the kitchen. He couldn't find the coffee, and he couldn't find a coffee maker. He had seen Natasha produce coffee but he had no idea from where, so when he found a tin of tea he made a strong cup of that and dosed it liberally with milk and sugar, because he knew that was how Clint took his coffee. Digging through the medicine cabinets he found some ibuprofen which wasn't quite aspirin but it would do for a hangover, and returned to the room. Clint had flopped on his back, a pillow covering his face.

"Here you go." Steve said. Clint removed the pillow and cracked an eye hopefully, struggling to sitting against the headboard.

"Thanks." He drank the tea without comment and popped three ibuprofen. "What the hell was in that mead, man?" He groaned. It had been sweet, faintly bubbly, and with a spicy, tangy aftertaste, and it was unlike anything Steve could reference.

"...Magic?" Steve replied.

Unexpectedly, Clint was laughing - belly laughing - and continued to laugh until tears were coming down his cheeks and tea had spilled all over the bedspread. Clint guzzled the remaining tea before carefully settling himself down on the bed once more, dragging Steve along with him by the hand. He was insistent in settling Steve curled up against him, huffing and resettling limbs until he was satisfied.

It was strange. Steve had curled together with guys for warmth. Some days, camping out in the mountains they would be huddled in a pile, Steve usually on the outside because the Serum granted him some protection from the cold. This was different, though - casual and without survival purposes. Clint smelled a little sour from the alcohol, a little spicy from sweat, and with faint traces of Natasha and Darcy's feminine scents. Clint was carding his fingers through his hair, which was actually really nice, and without thinking about it they both drifted off to sleep again.

Steve honestly expected everything would be awful after that night. He was team leader, and he had somehow ended up in the middle of an ab-licking orgy with his team members after getting drunk on alien spirits. But everyone was a consummate professional. Clint and Natasha continue obeying roughly the same percent of his orders as they did before, with the same amount of sass. Thor voiced a few euphemistic allusions which make Steve wish he didn't blush so easily, but Natasha pulled him aside and explained the meaning of Never Speaking Of It Again to Thor, and those stopped.

In fact, aside from an increase in physical affection all around, there's really remarkably few changes. Clint bumps him in the shoulder when they sit adjacent during briefings. Natasha pillows against him in the jet when they're flying and she wants to sleep. Darcy kisses him whenever she sees an opening. Natasha and Clint both demand back rubs from him on a relatively frequent basis. They claim the PT's can't work the knots out of their muscles and super-strength is the only thing they've found to make a dent. Bruce walked in on a session in the living room. Clint was lying spread-eagle on the carpet after having been worked on, Steve was perched on Natasha's hips, thumbs working in her rhomboids. Bruce's eyebrows rose, glancing between the half-naked superheroes. Natasha groaned loudly. Bruce pulled his shirt off and laid down hopefully next to Natasha.

"If Doom ever wants to take all of us out at once, he can just give us amazing back rubs. I would totally let him enslave humanity for some awesome back rubs." Clint says, sounding nearly post coital.

"That's reasonable." Steve replies. "Does that mean you'd be fine with ME enslaving humanity?"

"We are already your most loyal subjects." Clint says, for some reason using an awful mockery of a British accent.

"Mmph." Natasha agrees, Steve pushing the wind out of her at that exact moment while stretching her lower back.

"You guys are really building this up." Bruce says. "I am in line, right?"

"Is that better?" Steve asked Natasha, ignoring them all. She stretched, nodding a yes, before rolling over several times to flop against Clint. "Yeah, Bruce. Where does it hurt?"  
\--  
"How are you guys all okay with this?" Steve asked one night after dinner. Darcy had settled across his lap, head resting on the arm of the couch.

"We've talked about it." Darcy said. "Like, a lot."

"And we're all adults about it. If we want something we say it - we don't go pining and building up resentment or something." Clint added, lifting Darcy's feet up so he could sit next to Steve.

"And how did Natasha fit into all this? Before... me."

Natasha's eyes flicked to all of them before she shrugged, eloquently.

"See, Nat, that answers nothing." Clint says with a shit-eating grin. "She only likes being with people she really trusts. Isn't that true?"

Natasha gave him a considering look before nodding. She was curled up in their armchair with a cup of steaming Russian tea that smelled like it was steeped with cigar butts.

"Seriously though, Clint and I love sex. Right?" Clint has a big grin on that clearly says 'yes'. "And Nat is like, one of the most amazing people I have ever met, ever, and she does live here so we were seeing her all the time. And her and Clint used to, just for fun... And it turned out she was totally cool with joining in. You have seen her ass, right?"

"It made the morning after breakfast waaay less awkward."

"I never made things awkward." Natasha said, reproachful.

"The first morning you were cataloging and sharpening your knives. You threatened female circumcision if I hurt him."

"That's just... prudent. And look how well it turned out. And then you came along." Natasha was looking at him as though he was a particularly tender piece of meat.

"Don't you miss just having one best gal though?" Steve asked, addressing Clint.

Clint brought one of Darcy's feet up to kiss the top of. "I got my best gal. I just also have my best friend who sleeps with us. And my best team mate/bossman who sleeps with us sometimes too. It's awesome."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve learns to give a classy blowjob, Darcy and Natasha cause embarrassment, and Tony is generally confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this several times and had to start all over again. Once because I accidentally began writing the (porny) beginning of my own version of the Winter Soldier saga.

Clint, Steve learned, was a really happy guy in general. Sure, he played the brooding assassin card, and the, 'I look into the abyss and the abyss looks back', (Natasha had loaned him some of her national literature translated to English) but he, like Steve, was delighted by the little things. Spending time with Natasha, Darcy and Clint was kind of what he imagined dating would be like - going out to dance halls every once in a while, visiting the movies together (kids' films with Clint, romantic comedies with Darcy, historical dramas with Natasha and action flicks with the whole crew), dinners in, someone to go see the sites with on weekends. They were his team, but they were also the people he shared the little triumphs and the big failures of his life with.

"Can you show me how to do that?" Steve asked Darcy, rather breathlessly during a bout of fellacio.

Her eyes got almost comically wide meeting his, mouth still over his cock. "Right now?" She asked, palm steadying his penis while she spoke.

"Maybe after?" He asked, and she smiled, licking a stripe up the underside of him. Natasha left to get Clint.

"CLINT - GET YOUR ASS OFF THE COUCH." Natasha could be heard shouting through his door.

"I don't know what you need me for." Clint was saying as he walked in, and saw Darcy, lips almost down to Steve's stomach and stopped. "Oh, please can I have some of that."

"That's what we need you for. Cap wants to give it a try." Clint's eyes widened from their customary sardonic squint. "He needs someone to try ON." Natasha swats him on the butt towards the bathroom to wash off workout sweat.

Steve came with a loud groan, and Darcy smiled and spit into a tissue. "Clint is going to love you."

Steve had become accustomed to using his mouth (and having mouths used) on most parts of anatomy. Living within range of Darcy's tongue meant he was on the receiving end of a fair share of tongue, sometimes in quite unexpected places. He'd long gotten over the trials of stubble burn from kissing Clint, and though part of his religious upbringing still screamed that it was wrong, that never had jived with him. 

Clint had come back to lie down on the bed, beads of shower water on his skin and the fresh scent of soap hanging around him.

"What do I do?" Steve approached Clint like he might approach a mission brief - he wanted all the information available, he would formulate a plan and he would execute that plan.

Clint was grinning up at him, "I love it when you talk dirty, baby." He said. He reached up and got a hold of the back of Steve's neck, drawing him in for a kiss. Rutting gently against Steve's hip, he could feel the other man's cock growing harder.

"Perfect! Get down here." Darcy said from lower down and the other side of Clint. "This is a cock - I'm sure you're familiar with this make and model having seen it POUNDING me and Natasha previously. You're also familiar with the dimensions from previous handling." Darcy had her palm splayed under Clint's cock and was gesturing to the length, width and breadth of it like a sales lady or a trainer familiarizing a trainee with a weapon. Clint looked as though he liked nothing more than being on display. "The most important things to remember are stay relaxed, no teeth, and don't worry if you can't fit it all in at once - that's what your hand is for." She looks at him, noting a hesitancy and an eagerness warring for supremacy. "You ready soldier?" She asks him.

Steve nodded, flushed. Clint raised his eyebrows looking down at him. "Yeah. Yes." Shaking off his hesitation he took Clint's cock firmly at the base, examining the head with a critical eye. He knew what he enjoyed so it wasn't really a total mystery. Thinking of Darcy he ran the flat of his tongue up the exposed underside, ending at the slit. Underneath him, Clint was sniper-frozen. He was unsure how the other man managed it while maintaining an erection.

Taking that as a sign to continue, he licked the full hard length a few times before fisting the base of Clint's cock. Licking his lips in preparation, he sucked the head into his mouth, running his tongue along the tip in a long stroke. Clint groaned, "Shit.". Steve had learned that the more Clint was cursing the more he was enjoying himself - Darcy was much the same. No teeth, take it slow...

"Holy fuck." Darcy said beside him, running a hand down his neck. "Super-serum killed your gag reflex or something?" Clint was cursing creatively, only silenced when Darcy leaned down to kiss him. Fellacio was new and rather strange - a combination of extreme intimacy and a sort of detached professionalism on his part. He couldn't see Clint above a track of hairs running towards his bellybutton - could only hear vocalizations and feel his physical reactions, but that was enough to determine what went over well and what was not quite right yet.

The experience wasn't unpleasant. Clint's verbal urgings and encouragements made it clear he was doing something right. It was filthy and arousing, the things Clint was saying. He let Clint thrust shallowly into his mouth, hand keeping the other man from going deeply enough to choke him, which seemed to please Clint enormously.

He came loudly, and with a lot of profanity. Much like he did everything that was not work-related. Darcy was giving him a running commentary of climax-related etiquette with fellacio. Clint's first spurt of semen kicks off his gag reflex like nothing else had. He pulls off, spitting and snorting a bit, and finishes Clint with his hand. Clint sprawls on Natasha's bed contentedly, heedless of semen and sweat.

"That was awesome." Clint said, and Steve takes that as high praise. Clint gives a full body shake, groaning in satisfaction.

"Congratulations," Darcy said, "You're a cocksucker!"  
\--  
Steve ran into Tony on a quick trip back to his room for brown sugar. Darcy was baking and had not planned ahead. Thus she was short a key ingredient or three which Steve just happened to stock. Tony narrowly avoided him with a lurching step. He stopped, head swiveling around to look Steve up and down.

"Is that a dressing gown? Or more of a housecoat?" He asked, disbelieving and mocking all at once. In fact it was a housecoat - Darcy had found it at a second hand shop and bought it. It was too large for Clint so Steve had been on the receiving end of this particular gift. Clint eyed the mauve paisley with envy and fingered the somewhat textured lapels with a wistful air. He liked to use the lapels as leverage for pulling Steve into kisses.

Steve gave a look to Tony clearly saying, 'so what if it is one of those things?'.

"What are you doing wandering the halls in a housecoat?" Tony asked.

Wordlessly Steve brought up the brown sugar box, wondering if it was best to back away from Tony and attempt an alternate route, or slip around him through the door of the Barton/Romanov residence which was still slightly ajar.

Tony's eyebrows bunched together in consternation and his goatee drew down in a frown. His eyes were rapidly tracking through empty air as though visualizing and discarding reasons Steve would be walking the halls in a mauve housecoat with a box of brown sugar.

"Wait - is that a prop for kinky spysassin games?" Tony asked, delighted.

"Did you just combine the words 'spy' and 'assassin'?" Steve asked and shook his head before Tony could do more than shoot him a challenging 'so what' look, "It is a prop for cookies." Steve answered Tony, giving him an incredulous look. "Sometimes I worry about your reasoning power."

Tony started to ask another question but he did so while leaning in and to the right. Steve uses this as an opportunity to slip neatly to the left down the hall and back to safety.  
\--  
Natasha liked lying on Steve as though he was a full-body pillow, or nestling into his lap head resting on his shoulder. She is small compared with Clint, but compared with Steve, she's tiny. He doesn't mind her weight, or the forward, self-assured way she claims him. He's carried gear packs that outweighed Natasha in the war and the feeling of being relied on was a comfort to him as well.

Natasha is brash and demanding, can be abrupt or harsh but Clint tells him that that is the sign she's being herself. After he gets over his surprise at her sweet, composed face spewing profanity at a hockey game, it's oddly charming. He doesn't particularly enjoy the game but Darcy and Natasha are snuggling him in on both sides and that makes up for it.

"YOU COCKLESS VEGETABLE!" Natasha screams at one of the Oilers.

In the cab home Darcy and Natasha were both exuberant. They were playing a game involving hands on heach others' thighs and the occasional ringing slap and squeal. "Is this really appropriate?" Steve asked them, tightly. Natasha's hand was climbing up Darcy's thigh towards her miniskirt. The womens' eyes were locked intently. Darcy's hand was attempting to snake around towards Natasha's bra band.

They arrived just as Natasha's hand darted up Darcy's skirt, snapping the crotch of her panties with an audible fabric-on-skin thwak, and a startled squeak.

Steve flushed and the women snickered delightedly, pouring out their side of the cab. Steve tipped the driver on top of what Natasha had already paid and slipped out after them. Darcy immediately latched onto one large hand using Steve as a shield between herself and Natasha. Natasha growled but did little more than glare daggers across Steve's chest. She took his other arm firmly and the women seemed to come to an accord, dragging him to the elevator.

Once inside Natasha's door it was a race between them who could get clothes off the fastest. Natasha won, of course, and thus gained the upper hand and time to rush Darcy, pinning the other woman against the wall. Using her surprising strength she hitched Darcy's leg on her hip, roughly thrusting her hand between them and crushing Darcy's full red lips with her own.

Steve's mouth was dry, frozen still in the process of removing a sock. Darcy moaned, wanton and surprised.

"Hurry up, Steve." Darcy managed when Natasha moved to kissing her throat and collarbone, biting and thrusting into Darcy with her fingers. "Holy fuck yes." Darcy hissed.

Steve peeled his socks off and shucked his pants in a rush but was unsure how to proceed now unclothed. Natasha seemed to be the thoroughly engrossed in Darcy, palming a butt cheek with her free hand and biting a nipple. He stroked a hand down the pale thigh Darcy had hitched around Natasha's waist, down to the calf and toes and back again. Darcy captured his hand bringing it to her mouth. She ran her tongue over her lips and swirled it around the pad of his middle finger before sucking it into her mouth and rubbing it along the webbing of his fingers.

Were he not already hard, that would have caused his cock to spring to attention. As it was he pressed in towards Darcy, rutting against the small of Natasha's back in the process. Darcy let out a squeak at the additional weight. "Bed." Natasha said with all the gravity of a mission order.

She stepped away from the wall, steadying Darcy who looked liable to melt down it. Natasha's room was Natasha-sized. The bed was the size Steve was used to a married couple having in his time, and everything was closely spaced enough that he bumped into things constantly. Natasha directed Darcy to her bed and followed her down, pushing her legs apart and licking a long strip to Darcy's clitoris. "Oh, yes, Nat. Yes." Darcy moaned, blinking and trying to refocus her eyes. Seeing Steve, "Get down here." she said between heavy breaths. Steve crouched behind Natasha for a better view. His erect cock rested between the crack of her buttocks against the small of her back. Without losing her rhythm with Darcy, Natasha ground back against him.

After the rough treatment of earlier Natasha was surprisingly delicate with teeth and tongue. Darcy's feet were braced flat on the bedsheets and Steve ran his fingers down her inner thigh and teased her inner lips with two fingers, and she came with a panting wail.

Natasha sat up running both palms over Darcy's still trembling tummy muscles to her breasts before patting the other woman on the ribs and turning to Steve. She wasn't smiling but she had that self-satisfied gleam in her eyes indicating a job well done. She reached for him for the first time that afternoon and he went to her. She ran slightly sticky fingers through his hair and kissed him luxuriously slowly. Her hand circled his cock, gentle and teasing. Something hit his shoulder - a condom packet thrown by Darcy. Natasha rolled it on him and flipped him sideways next to Darcy, shins hanging off the bed and head almost touching the wall.

Natasha straddled him, lined up his cock and sank slowly onto him. Natasha liked the control of being on top, dictating the depth and rhythm of the encounter. She picked up the most minute cues - breathing rhythm, pupil dilation, muscle tension - to read her partners. All Steve had to think about was whether he should grip her hips, palm her breasts or run his hands through her hair as they kissed.

Natasha rode him like a queen on a litter - regal, authoritative, strong. "You're so beautiful." Steve said, lost in the moment. "You're so strong." He said, running his hands down powerful thighs working over him. A smile, and something more tender and vulnerable flickered over her face before she changed her angle nd their pubic bones came into rough contact. Flyaways were stuck with sweat to Natasha's temples. Her head was thrown back, which Darcy took advantage of, licking one delicate ear and cupping her breasts. Natasha came silently except for panting as was her habit. 

She continued to rock over him, a determined look penetrating him as surely as he penetrated her. She clenched some inner muscles and bore down on him and Steve came in a series of long breathless shudders. Natasha lay on him a moment, skin drying of sweat. In a fluid movement she rose nodding towards the bathroom. "Shower. No passing out."

Natasha herded Darcy and Steve into the shower and closed the shower door on them, disappearing towards the kitchen. He washed Darcy with reverence, soapy palms smoothing over shoulders and back, the curve of her hips and buttocks. She leaned back against him, butt resting against his hips, head resting on his collarbone so she could gaze up into his face. "I could watch you fuck Nat all day." She said. "Provided I could masturbate. You two are delicious." Steve blushed at the language and frankness that had not yet ceased to startle him.

She undulated slowly, everywhere they were touching writhing sensuously, slick with soap and warm water. His cock twitched hopefully and he jerked at the end of her movement, thrusting where buttocks and thighs met. She chuckled, delighted as always to get a reaction out of him. "Ready to go again already? That really puts the 'super' in 'Super-soldier'." She said, still looking up at him. 

"Well you get a guy going." He said, hoarse. He ran his hands down her soapy back filling his palms with her buttocks, fingertips brushing hips. "I want to draw you some time." he says, reverent.

Darcy flushed a bit unexpectedly. "As long as you make me look good." She said.

"I couldn't make you look bad if I wanted to." He said, now rutting in earnest, gentle and slick with soap and warm water.

"Oh my god you are incorrigible." She giggles, rocking back into him.

Natasha reappeared at that moment, a dry arm holding a condom packet. The shower door was open enough that Steve can see three mugs arranged on the counter - one tea, one coffee, one hot cocoa, and the arch line of Natasha's back, inscrutable and perfectly straight. Darcy took the packet, ripping it open and throwing the packaging towards the bathroom trash can. 

The warm water made everything more difficult but between the two of them they get the condom on. Darcy braced a palm against one wall, a foot on a protuberance in the shower, and guided Steve inside her from behind, sighing expressively. The angle was a bit odd but it allowed him to run his palm down the curve of Darcy's supple spine, running with rivulets of hot water.

"Oh fuck yes." Darcy said eloquently, fingering herself without shame. 

Her hair was dark and dripping, hiding her face from him, but her range of vocal expression left little to the imagination about what is going through her mind and body. Steve was thrusting into her hard enough that her braced foot slipped periodically, and he balanced her with a hands on her hips. He wondered at the pull of small and large muscles around her hips and in her buttocks as she makes all the small adjustments to keep herself upright. Darcy was making louder moaning sounds which Steve took as a positive.

The whole dance of courtship and seduction was rather beyond Steve's purview. Somehow he was adopted by these amazing women (and Clint) and they dragged him into their lives. When he does come once more it is with Darcy, and under the fond eyes of Natasha. She led them out of the shower when they had rinsed off once more. She cleaned up herself, all efficient swipes of soapy hands. Darcy dripped on the bathmat and dove into the coffee Natasha made for her while Steve dried off meticulously. The hot cocoa was wonderful.

"Don't think you're done yet." Natasha's head was poking out of the shower, eyes assessing and cataloging his nudity with hungry eyes.  
\--  
Natasha and Darcy were an elegant sprawl of limbs and hair. Darcy's head was pillowed on Natasha's arm, one of the assassin's thighs thrown possessively over the other woman. Their foreheads just avoided touching, twin profiles meeting in sleep. Darcy's free arm was thrown above her head, fingers tangled in intermingled dark and bright red hair.

Steve padded to the living room for his pastels and sketch book. Natasha was still on Kiev time so she was out for the count after the excitement of the game. Darcy could and did sleep anywhere, anytime, with a passion Steve had only seen matched by short-handed sailors. Steve felt he had had enough sleep for a lifetime, and the super-serum supported him in that completely emotional assertion.

He penciled a few quick figure sketches from several angles of the women, and one close in on their faces with swipes of pastel color. Darcy's mouth was pulled into a slight pout, muscles across the bridge of her nose pinching under faint freckles, eyelashes fluttering but defiantly closed. Natasha's face was china doll still and serenely blank, as though she has simply powered down. Their hair spilled and mixed together and the pads of Darcy's curled fingers were just visible above the curve of Natasha's forehead in the drawing.

As he finished the last splash of red, Natasha's eye slitted open pinning him with a stare. "Whatever that was I want it. The original. No copies." She breathes out.

"Yes Ma'am." Steve replied, rewarded with a crinkling of her eyes and an invitation to join the sprawl as best he can in the much too small bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this particular work! Aforementioned (porny) Winter Soldier saga will be posted as its own thing eventually. Thank you so much for reading, kudo'ing and commenting - this has made my introduction to AO3 a truly supportive experience.


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